


and a bold world

by brutalhustler



Category: Psych
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutalhustler/pseuds/brutalhustler
Summary: He mulls it over for a few days and ends up with a semi-solid, poorly thought out, and incredibly desperate plan. Step one is just “drive,” step two is “tell Gus you’re in love with him without embarrassing yourself,” step three is “get gas?,” and steps four through ten are various contingency plans in case he needs to flee the country.





	and a bold world

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to alaserquest for the beta and for continuing to be the best ever.

After a certain amount of thoughtful deliberation (and a coin that landed on tails a few too many times to be considered coincidence) Shawn finds himself on Henry Spencer’s front porch with a Personal Problem. He tells himself that it’s just like any other case his dad has helped him with, no big deal, but when his dad answers the door and immediately puts him to work cleaning the barbecue, he wonders again why he didn’t just say screw the coin and ask Jules. She would know what to do and, as an added bonus, she wouldn’t make him do any manual labor in return for her advice. But she would also probably make him talk about his feelings which is not something he really wants to do either. Between feelings and manual labor he’ll take the manual labor.

“So, Dad,” Shawn says, between half-hearted scrapes. “If you had something important to tell someone, how would you do it?”

Henry looks up from the hamburger patties he’s forming. “I wouldn’t beat around the bush, Shawn. If you have something to say to me just say it.” He slaps the latest patty on the platter with the rest.

“It’s not you. Not everything is about you.”

“All right,” Henry says, shooting him a look, “then I guess it would depend on the person.”

Shawn busies himself with a particularly big grease ball while he answers in his most nonchalant voice, “Just someone from the precinct. A coworker. We’re not super close.”

“But you have something important to tell them?”

“Yes. They, uh, keep eating my food out of the fridge. Well, Lassiter’s food, but everyone knows I have first dibs and the notes I recycled out of Lassie’s notes don’t seem to be working.”

Henry looks suspicious, too suspicious. Jules would not have looked this suspicious. Instead of voicing whatever conclusion he thinks he’s drawn (a first for any Spencer ever), he just says, “Well, I imagine this person would appreciate something considerate and well thought out. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Shawn just shrugs aggressively, eyes on the barbecue grate.

“Maybe you should plan some sort of day trip for this food thief. You can choose a nice destination for the… berating.”

“That’s,” Shawn starts and then pauses, “actually a really good idea. Thanks. I’ll leave you to your burgers. Unless you wanna share one or two?”

His dad sighs a gruff sigh around the beginnings of a smile. A face that Shawn knows means he’s about to get his way.

“Alright, kid. But you better get the charcoal started if you wanna eat before it gets dark.”

*

He mulls it over for a few days and ends up with a semi-solid, poorly thought out, and incredibly desperate plan. Step one is just “drive,” step two is “tell Gus you’re in love with him without embarrassing yourself,” step three is “get gas?,” and steps four through ten are various contingency plans in case he needs to flee the country.

Step zero is breaking into Gus’s apartment at not yet six in the morning on a Wednesday and casually eating his way through Gus’s cereal collection until the Gus in question gets up for work.

Shawn doesn’t try to be quiet and Gus’s _Shawn! What the hell?_ when he finds him in the kitchen isn’t up to his usual muster.

“Hey, buddy,” Shawn says, as Gus gets a bowl and sits down at the table. “We got a big case today. I already called your boss and told him Pickles’s skin thing is back.”

“Shawn,” Gus sighs around his name, and pours himself some cereal, “We got in a bunch of new samples yesterday and I have to have them catalogued by Friday. I was going to do most of that today.” His voice is sleep slow and he doesn’t bother to close his mouth around the Cap’n Crunch he’s chewing.

“Oh, Gus. That is so boring. Come on! This will be way more fun.”

“Shawn.”

“Gus, you already have the day off! It won’t make sense if you go in today! Plus, Chief Vick really needs us on this one.”

“Fine, Shawn. But you’re driving and I’m bringing my laptop so I can get some work done.”

“Awesome. You get ready, I’ll pack your stuff up.”

“Pack my stuff?” Gus looks alarmed. “How long are we gonna be gone?”

“It’s a bit of a drive. Don’t worry about it, buddy. I’ll handle everything.”

Gus heaves another sigh. “Okay.”

If Shawn had a dollar for every time Gus sighed at him he wouldn’t need Gus to pay for everything all the time. But if Gus didn’t have to pay for everything then he would sigh less and there would be less dollars. A philosophical dilemma, like the chicken and the egg or the music and the misery.

*

It's pushing seven by the time they actually leave. Which, considering how long Gus's showers are (the only mystery that has always evaded Shawn - _it's not like you have any hair to wash, Gus. - Shut up, Shawn._ ) and how many times Shawn had to unpack and repack Gus's bag in order to properly fit everything, is fairly impressive. 

Their first stop is the Starbucks on the way out of town. They've been having an unusually cold September and it makes for a peaceful start to their day: hot coffee and the heater on high, muffling the sound of the local classic rock station. 

Step one-and-a-half of Shawn's ten step plan is to win Gus over with his boyish charm. This step is a slam dunk as Gus is already endlessly charmed by everything Shawn does. So when, half an hour in, Gus opens the bag packed for him and finds a bowling ball, six bags of jerky, a "MILF patrol" t-shirt, a handful of mismatched socks, and absolutely nothing else and sighs hard through his nose, Shawn knows that his  _I'm gonna kill you, Shawn_  is said with love and endless devotion and not annoyance. He also knows that Gus will most definitely incorporate "MILF patrol" into his pajama shirt rotation, as he is not one to leave clothes unworn or gifts unused. 

*

Shawn almost blows his perfectly thought out plan a couple of times.

The first is when they stop for gas about fifty miles in. Shawn knows Gus isn't actually mad at him but, just in case, he tells Gus he can buy one non-jerky snack from the gas station, on him, and he'll pay for the first tank of gas. 

"The first?" Gus asks, his tone carrying a warning. 

"Don't worry about it, buddy," Shawn says, and smiles his most disarming smile. 

Gus takes half of Shawn's meager stack of cash into the gas station while Shawn fills the tank. There's still a chill in the air, but the rising sun is quickly burning away whatever fog is left. Steam rises from the hood of the car. 

Gus comes back a few minutes later with three non-jerky snacks and a smug smile. Shawn prints the receipt while Gus gets back in the car. He puts the nozzle back, closes the gas cap, and slides back into the driver's seat, dropping the receipt in Gus's lap so he can calculate the mileage with his little golf pencil he keeps in the glove box specifically for that purpose. Shawn starts the car and waits for Gus to finish his calculations. He looks over sporadically, mesmerized by the slight tinge of pink that appears at the tip of Gus's nose as the warmth returns to his extremities. Shawn almost says it right then, but he saves it at the last minute, like the pro secret keeper that he is. 

"Thirty-seven," Gus says triumphantly, oblivious to Shawn's ogling, crumpling the receipt and dropping it into the plastic trash bag wrapped around the gear shift. 

Shawn zeroes out the miles and pulls out of the gas station. 

*

The second time Shawn almost ruins his master plan is when they stop for their first real meal of the day, just on the other side of the Arizona border.

Shawn knows there's no way that Gus didn't miss the "Welcome to Arizona" sign or the fact that they've been driving for the better part of six hours. They pull into a local diner and they both get out and stretch limbs that haven't moved since the rest stop two hours prior. It's been steadily warming up and Shawn shakes out the back of his shirt, grateful for the fresh air drying out his sweat. 

Shawn holds the door for Gus as they walk in. Like, stands-back-and-lets-Gus-go-first, not that weak go-first-and-hold-the-door-awkwardly-behind-you bullshit. 

His curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, "Aren't you gonna ask me where we're going?" while they wait to be seated. 

"You know what, Shawn? I'm not," he pauses when a woman in an apron approaches them. 

"Just the two of you?" She says. 

Gus says, "Yes," while Shawn smiles and they follow her to their table. They ask for waters, she leaves, and Gus continues. 

"I'm curious, obviously. But I don't have to drive, you're buying my lunch," he gives Shawn a pointed look while he says this and Shawn only scowls, "and even if I'm not getting paid for this, it's okay. I've been thinking lately that I should take a break." 

"That's a surprisingly optimistic view there, Gus," Shawn says.

Gus shrugs and smiles. 

"But," he continues, "why wouldn't you be getting paid? Important case, remember?" 

"Okay, Shawn." 

They stop talking in order to actually look at their menus and Shawn makes his decision fairly quickly. He puts his menu down and busies himself playing with the sugar packets and taking sneaking glances at Gus. He can see how the ever present tension in Gus's shoulders has lessened throughout the day and the tiny lines in his brow have disappeared and his lips aren't pursed and tense. Happy. He looks happy. It's a good look for him. 

Gus puts down his menu, decision apparently made, and Shawn challenges Gus to the box of Trivial Pursuit cards at the table so he doesn't say something stupid. Gus wins, of course, because even though Shawn's memory is unbeatable, Gus has always been the smart one. Shawn has a mini existential crisis over how much better than him Gus is and how he deserves someone a thousand times more amazing than Shawn.

He's saved from full on breakdown by the arrival of their food and he immediately shovels a handful of fries in his mouth, pours ketchup in after them, and makes Gus snort with disgust. 

*

"Are you sure, Gus? Like, are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Shawn, I'm sure."

"Alright. Your funeral."

They sit in silence for a minute. Gus opens his mouth to talk but Shawn beats him to it. "Airport next right."

Another minute of silence. Shawn beats him again with "Bubba's Wings." 

They drive through a stretch of desert highway without a single sign for what has to be three or four miles and then Shawn says, "Culture Center," "Dave's Dive Shop," and "Equestrian Rides," in quick succession. 

Shawn smirks while Gus seethes in the passenger seat. 

"Okay, Shawn, I don't want to play anymore." 

 

*

They're on the tip of his tongue -- at every gas station and every rest stop along the way, through miles and miles of red desert, through Gus's fingers tapping on his knees and his little snorts when he naps and the flutter of his eyelashes when he turns eyes at the sound of Shawn's voice -- poised and waiting to drop: I love you, I love you, I love you. 

But he holds each one in, even though they burn in the back of his throat. Even when it feels like he's going to choke on them. 

He has The Plan, and he has to stick to The Plan. Partly because he's spent over a hundred dollars on The Plan, but mostly because he knows only something truly impressive could make Gus think about Shawn the same way Shawn thinks about him. 

*

It's almost sunset by the time they make it to the national park and Shawn can tell the second Gus sees the sign  **Grand Canyon National Park** , because he just says  _oh, Shawn_ in this heart-wrenchingly (well, maybe just Shawn's heart) soft voice that Shawn wants to hear every day for the rest of his life. He charges the entrance fee to his credit card, thinking briefly that all this spending is future (likely heartbroken) Shawn's problem. 

They park and walk the well beaten path to the observation areas, stopping at the first empty one. Gus sits down at a bench next to a plaque listing a bunch of boring facts that he's genuinely interested in. Shawn is happy to sit while Gus reads, as his legs suddenly feel like they're about to collapse under him. 

Shawn has literally, truly, actually, almost died many times before. But there's something different and uniquely terrifying about this experience that has him scared in a way he's never felt before. 

"Shawn," Gus says, mid-plaque, "this is nice. Like, surprisingly nice." He reads through the rest of the plaque and says, "Thanks," in that soft voice again. 

Shawn struggles to pull in a breath. "No problem, buddy." 

"Just tell me there's not actually a case because if there's a dead body at the bottom of the canyon I'm out of here." 

Shawn laughs, a desperate sound. "No, of course not." He takes another breath. "It's a dead donkey. Beloved by the locals. They called him El Caballo con un Corazón tan Grande como sus Orejos. It means 'donkey' in Span-“ 

"Shawn!" 

"Okay! Okay. Gus, I have something important to tell you and I thought if we were here at, like, the most beautiful place in the world it would be easier for you to hear."

"Shawn..." 

“It’s like… I’m Judd Nelson and you’re Molly Ringwald. Or maybe you’re Judd Nelson and I’m Molly Ringwald. Well, in all reality you’re Anthony Michael Hall. So who does that make me?” Shawn trails off, looking into the distance. 

“Shawn! Get to the point.”

“Right, sorry. So I  _thought_ I was Freddie Prinze Jr. and you were Rachel Leigh Cook pre-makeover but it turns out I'm still Freddie Prinze Jr. and you're _actually_  Rachel Leigh Cook post-makeover." Gus looks flustered but now that Shawn's started he can't seem to stop. "Not that you look different but like, wait, okay. I don't know what I'd do without you and you've changed my life in so many ways and I just really appreciate that and I know I don't say it enough or like at all but I  _do_  and I'm so grateful for your friendship, but-" He pauses to take a breath but Gus jumps in. 

"Are you dying? You better not be dying, Shawn!" His voice climbs higher and louder. "You're not allowed to die, don't you die on me, Shawn! If you drove me all the way out here to tell me you're dying I'll throw you into this canyon myself!" 

"No!" Shawn shouts, "I'm just in love with you." 

Gus's mouth snaps shut like a pair of plastic, chattering teeth and the words echo embarrassingly around them for what feels like an eternity. 

Gus opens his mouth again, likely to tell him  _thanks, but no thanks_ , and Shawn can't believe he didn't think through this, the most crucial part of his plan. The Rejection. Not a single one of his seven contingency plans prepared him for what he's supposed to say to Gus  _before_  he flees. Maybe instead of responding he can just dive into the canyon and spend the rest of eternity with El Caballo con un Corazón tan Grande como sus Orejos. 

Gus interrupts his thoughts and says, "Shawn, I hope you’re not telling me you put six hundred miles on my company car and got me behind in work just to tell me you're in love with me."

This is not at all the response Shawn was expecting. "Um. Then... I'm not?"

"Shawn!"

"Sorry! I don't know what you want me to say."

"Sorry, no, you're right. I just don't know what to say."

"Oh. Well, take your time. Or, I mean, better yet we can just forget I said anything and just head home." He laughs wryly. "No harm, no foul, right? Let's go." He starts to stand. 

Gus sighs and Shawn settles back down, taking a deep breath. They sit together on the bench, looking out at the canyon for a few minutes. 

When Gus finally speaks he says, "Shawn, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon before."

Shawn only nods, doesn't trust himself to speak. 

"It's been here all this time and I've never once bothered to drive here and see it for myself. And I know it's a cliche but, Shawn, this is the most amazing thing I've ever seen." He looks at Shawn, giving him a turn to speak but Shawn has decided to take a vow of silence. It's really his best option looking forward. 

"Anyway, my point is, this amazing thing has been here all this time and I never bothered to see it because I'm always so busy with Psych or work, you know? And, okay, I'm going to say this in the most gentle way possible but I've never thought about you that way, Shawn." 

Shawn's throat immediately closes up and he feels like he's been punched. A fog fills his brain and he starts shaking his head, crazy, "Okay, no, you're right I'm sorry that's fine. It was stupid let's just pretend I didn't-" 

"Shawn!" Gus says over him. "I'm not saying no, okay." He puts his hand on Shawn's thigh, tentative like Shawn is some sort of wild animal. "I didn't know I liked the Grand Canyon because I never bothered to make the trip.” He removes his hand from Shawn’s thigh and looks forward, into the canyon. “I spend more time with you than I do with my own family, Shawn. Every date I go on I spend the majority of the time thinking about you and what you would think of them and what you and I are gonna do when it's over and I come home. Home to you, Shawn. I think that has to mean something. Don't you?"

The fog starts lifting in his head. "So, you're saying..." 

"I'm _saying_ , I don't know how I feel. But I would like to give this a shot." 

"Oh. Well," Shawn rubs at his forehead, tries to act cool, "I guess that would be alright." 

"Okay?"

"Okay." 

Gus looks at him, breathes into a smile and says, again, "okay."

"So," Shawn says, going for broke, "would it be okay if I kissed you now?"

"Yeah. I think that would be alright." 

Gus looks unsure but unafraid and he leans in at the same time as Shawn, never one to be left behind. 

They meet in the middle, close-mouthed and tentative. Shawn's hands come up, cradling Gus's face. Gus makes a small noise in the back of his throat and, almost simultaneously, their lips part and Shawn takes control, deepening the kiss. Any trace of weirdness from kissing his best friend quickly evaporates and he pours over twenty years of pent up emotion into the kiss, knowing this may be his only chance. 

Eventually, Gus pulls away and Shawn starts to take his hands away but Gus stops him, his hands on Shawn's wrists. 

"Okay?" Shawn says. 

"Okay," Gus says, and leans back in for a quick kiss, as if to prove his point. 

Shawn takes a deep breath and pulls his hands back to run them through his hair. Now that they’re not actively kissing, he can't remember what he usually does with his hands. He says, ”Alright, buddy, let's go home,” and stands to leave, awkwardly brushing off the back of his pants.

"Wait, Shawn," Gus says, voice serious.

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't we check out the crime scene before we leave?"

Shawn laughs, the last of his panic leaving his body. 

They're gonna be just fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> I did my best to make the timing/weather make sense but according to my math it would've likely been past dark by the time they got there and not the "almost sundown" I'm pretending it was. So, please, just go with it.


End file.
